


Come a Little Bit Closer

by gutsforgarters



Series: Or Your Money Back [2]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Friendship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Smut, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/pseuds/gutsforgarters
Summary: Kate resolves to wait three days before texting Seth the hot pizza delivery guy. In the end, she makes it to two.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *screams internally*

Kate resolves to wait three days before texting Seth the hot pizza delivery guy. In the end, she makes it to two.

_Hey :) It’s Birthday Girl Kate. Is this Seth Gecko’s number?_

“How’s this?” Kate asks her friends, turning her phone around to show them the unsent message.

“It reads like a business email,” Jessica immediately pronounces. “Way too impersonal.”

Kate frowns and turns her phone back around, cradling it defensively to her chest. “It doesn’t read like a _business email_. You’re not supposed to use smiley faces in professional settings.”

“No, Jessica’s right,” Libby says from where she’s slumped in Kate’s purple beanbag chair. “It’s not flirty enough. You should add a heart or something.”

“Don’t add a heart,” Jessie counters. “It’s way too soon for hearts.”

Jessie’s almost twenty-one and from San Antonio and is therefore the most worldly out of all of them, so Kate decides to heed her advice over the others’.

“Will he even remember me, though?” Kate wonders, tilting her phone back to frown critically at the screen. “Maybe I should add my last name.” If nothing else, Seth should remember that he was delivering an order for Fuller.

“Oh my God,” says Libby. “It’s been _two days_ , Kate. Of course he’s gonna remember you.”

“Yeah,” says Jessica, “and the two of you played _tongue hockey_ on your front porch. No way is he gonna forget _that_ any time soon.”

What if he does, though? Surely there are plenty of girls who’d line up to play—ugh— _tongue hockey_ with a guy who looks like _that_. For all Kate knows, Seth regularly makes out with the girls he delivers pizzas to.

And doesn’t _that_ thought make her deflate. Like, he probably doesn’t _actually_ do that, but even the _suggestion_ of it is pretty disheartening.  

Hell, what is she even _doing_?

“I dunno,” Kate mumbles, hovering her thumb over her keypad and thinking of erasing the message. If she doesn’t send it, then she can’t set herself up for disappointment. “Maybe I should just—”

Jessica levels a warning finger at Kate. “Katherine _Fuller_ , if you don’t send that message, then I fucking _will_.”

If it comes down to a physical confrontation over Kate’s phone, either she or Jessica could fat finger the keypad and accidentally send Seth a string of gibberish. Kate scowls at Jessica and winds up sending the message more out of spite than anything else. Then she places her phone face down on her bed, swearing to herself that she won’t look at the screen until ten minutes at minimum have elapsed.

She lasts five whole minutes before she turns it back over.  

Her shoulders cave in on themselves, heart dropping into her stomach. “He hasn’t read it yet.”

“He’s probably busy,” Jessie reassures her.

“Yeah,” Libby chimes in, “he probably works afternoons.”

Kate wants to believe them; she really does. And, well, he _did_ show up at Kate’s house Saturday afternoon, so Libby’s theory holds water. If only the sinking sensation in Kate’s stomach would listen to reason.

“Just think about how your date’s gonna go,” says Jessica, grabbing one of Kate’s pillows and hugging it to her middle.

“I think it’s a little early to be planning dates,” Kate mumbles, staring unblinkingly at her phone’s screen. He still hasn’t read the message.

_Lord, Kate, chill the hell out._

“What’re you gonna tell your kids when they ask how you met?” Libby wonders, almost as if to herself, and Kate stares at her. Speaking of _a_ _little early_. “I mean, it was just like a porno. How do you explain _that_?”

“What d’you know about pornos?” Jessica demands, even as Kate blurts, “It was like a _what_ ,” voice gone all high pitched and breathless like someone just punched her in the gut.

“You know,” says Libby, gesturing widely. “He’s the hot pizza guy, but you don’t have any money to pay him with, so you end up paying with your—”

Jessie covers Libby’s mouth. “Just quit while you’re ahead, babe.”

Kate contemplates kicking them all out of her room, but then her phone buzzes. Her heart jumps like someone just shot it up with adrenaline, but she resolves not to get her hopes up. It’s probably her dad or Scott, or, hell, a weather alert—

It’s not.

“Oh, crap,” Kate breathes, a stitch developing in her chest, fingers going sweaty and slick against her phone’s case. Before she can even think of responding to the first message, two more come in.  

_Hey Birthday Girl_

_Yeah it’s Seth. Sorry I was working_

_What’s up? ;)_

Kate squints at the winky face. Usually that would be a deal breaker, but Seth’s attractive enough that she’s willing to give him a pass. He’s on thin ice, though.

“What’d he say?” Jessica asks as she, Jessie, and Libby crowd in, trying to get a good look at Kate’s screen. She frowns at them and holds it snug to her chest. Jeez, are they trying to live through her vicariously or what?

…Yeah, they probably are. Not like there are lots of options in Bethel.  

“Nothing,” Kate says. “Just said hi and asked me how I’m doing. And that he replied late because he was working.”

“Told you,” says Libby.

“Ask him when he’s free,” says Jessica, tone gone all bossy in that way it sometimes does.

“Shouldn’t we talk a little more before I get around to asking him out?”

“ _No_ ,” all three of them say emphatically. Well, jeez.

Kate looses a shaky breath, then pulls her phone away from her chest and taps out a message, backspacing several times before settling on something she doesn’t totally hate.

_Not much lol. I was actually wondering if you wanted to do something this weekend?_

She doesn’t offer it to her friends for inspection this time; just sends it before she can chicken out. Shit, she should’ve phrased it as _do something with me_. This leaves too much up for interpretation. But he’s got to know what she means given the context, right? Anyway, _do something with me_ just begs for innuendo.

Seth answers immediately. _Yeah I’d love to. So long as it doesn’t involve pizza anyway_

“Excuse me,” Kate says with great dignity, then climbs out of bed and walks into the hallway. She can feel her friends staring at her, nonplussed, but she doesn’t stop until she’s made it to the bathroom, at which point she shuts and locks the door behind her.

Then she crouches on the cold tile floor, buries her face against her knees, and _shrieks_.

Holy shit. Holy shit, this is _actually happening_. It’s happening to _her_.

Kate waits for her breathing to even out before straightening up and stretching out her legs, back propped against the door just in case the others get impatient and try to jimmy the lock.

_Yeah, you’re probably all burnt out on pizza :) Which one’s better for you: Saturday or Sunday?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's been acting pretty stupid in general, lately. Going on a date with an older guy she knows almost nothing about while her dad and brother carry on in blissful ignorance—that deserves a freaking Nobel Prize for _stupid_. Not that Kate’s going to let that stop her, which just might be the stupidest thing of all.

Scott appears in the bathroom doorway, arms folded, eyes narrowed. He’s yet to change out of the dress shirt he wore to church, and even though Kate helped him iron it only a couple of hours ago, it’s already as wrinkled as it was when she rescued it from the heap of clothes languishing in the corner of Scott’s closet. Kate’s unsurprised by this, but she _is_ surprised that Scott didn’t glue himself to the PlayStation the second they got home from Sunday services.

“What’re you doing?”

Kate pulls her purple toothbrush out of her mouth, spits into the sink, and fills a paper Dixie Cup with tap water. “Uh. What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“It _looks_ like you’re brushing your teeth for the second time this morning.”

Kate runs her tongue over her teeth, licking up the tacky film the paste left behind. Look, she’d really like to get kissed again sometime today, alright? And she doesn’t want to taste like grape juice and stale wafers when/if it happens. “Second?”

“You brushed them right before we left for church,” Scott says, slowly, as though speaking to a very young and very stupid child.

Kate rinses out her mouth, pats her lips dry, and says, “Uh. Did I?”

Scott upgrades his squint to a scowl. “ _Shit_ , Kate,” he says, taking his chances with their dad’s scary-sharp hearing. “You got back together with Kyle, didn’t you?”

Kate rolls her eyes and unzips her makeup bag, rooting around for the shimmery peachy-pink lipstick with the embarrassing name that she only ever wears on special occasions because it’s so dang expensive. “ _Not_ that it’d be any of your business if I did, but, no. I didn’t. And I’m not going to, so you can chill out already, jeez.”

“Oh, yeah?” Scott points at the tube of lipstick with an air of grim triumph. “Then why’re you wearing _that_?”

Kate’s heart gives an anxious thump, but she makes a show of ignoring Scott, leaning in close to the mirror over the sink as she applies a coat of lipstick to her puckered mouth. She doesn’t answer Scott’s question—accusation?—until after she’s finished.

“Scott,” she says, capping the lipstick and transferring it to her purse just in case she needs to reapply it later, “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of some lipstick.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” Scott snaps, and Kate swings a wide-eyed look his way. “You only ever wear that stuff when you go out on dates.”

Kate is moderately surprised that Scott would bother to take notice of what color lipstick she wears on dates—or to notice _anything_ about her makeup, ever, other than to mock her for looking like a raccoon whenever it gets hot enough outside that her eyeliner runs. “I’m not going out with Kyle, Scott. For real.”

Something in her face or voice must convince Scott that she’s telling the truth—the partial truth, anyway—because his stance gets a little less combative, forearms untensing. “For real?”

If Kate keeps rolling her eyes, they’re gonna get stuck that way. “What’d I just say? Yeah, for real.” She grabs her purse and her makeup bag and sidles past Scott, slinging her purse’s strap over her shoulder and crossing the hallway to deposit the makeup bag on her dresser. Scott follows her.

“Who is it, then? Just tell me you’re not dating any of those dicks on the lacrosse team.”

Kate knows that she’s not helping her case by fussing with her appearance like this, but she can’t help but snatch up her brush and run it through her hair a couple of times, trying to smooth out the frizz that’s formed on top of her head.

“I’m not going out with anyone, Scott,” Kate fibs, setting the brush down with a clack. _Not anyone you know, anyway._ She smooths out her sundress’s skirt and considers ditching her white cardigan—but in the end, she decides that she can always take it off later, once she’s gotten away from Scott’s eagle-eyed gaze.

“You’re full of shit,” Scott tells her, but he doesn’t say anything else when Kate nudges past him to go hurrying down the stairs.

She can hear her dad clattering around in the kitchen, and when she pokes her head around the corner to tell him she’s going out, she finds that he’s cracking eggs over a mixing bowl while the skillet spits and hisses on the stovetop.

“Hey, Katie-cakes.” Like Scott, their dad has yet to change out of his church clothes, and he’s gotten yellow egg yolk on his white button up. “You up for an omelet?”

Kate tries not to grimace. She’s getting sick of eggs—although, in her dad’s defense, he’s been _trying_ to expand his culinary horizons since Momma died. Trying, and occasionally succeeding. “No, thanks, Daddy. Can I borrow the Hyundai?” Their dad only ever drives the Ford, leaving Kate and Scott to share (fight over) the Hyundai, but it’s still in Jacob’s name, so she’s gotta ask.

Jacob wipes his hands off on his shirt, smearing the yolk around. Kate bites back a sigh, knowing that she’s the one who’ll have to try and get the stains out later. “What for?”

And here’s the part where Kate will have to lie. Not fib, or even lie by omission, but outright _lie_. She hates lying, in large part because she’s so awful at it, but she’s been practicing this one in the mirror since Monday, and she thinks she’s got the hang of it. “Jessica wants to go to the mall.”

Jacob purses his lips. He’s always perfectly to polite to all of Kate’s friends, southern gentleman that he is, but he’s not very fond of Jessica. He’s always going on about how Jessica’s a bad influence on Kate, mostly because Jessica’s family isn’t religious.

Sucked lemon look on his face aside, Jacob relents after only a few seconds of consideration, probably because he’s just that desperate for Kate to get out and socialize. “Sure, honey. Just text me when you get there, alright?”

“Sure, Daddy. Thank you.” Kate bounces into the kitchen on feet that feel suddenly light as air, kissing her dad on the cheek—lightly, so she doesn’t smear her lipstick—before all but skipping down the front hallway to retrieve the car keys from the hook on the wall. The nape of her neck prickles as she goes to unlock the door, and she cranes a look over her shoulder and meets Scott’s eyes. He’s hunkered down on the stairs, glaring at her.  

“ _You’re_ in a good mood,” he says, in the tone he might employ to accuse someone of witchcraft.

“What, smiling’s a crime now?”

Scott mumbles something under his breath that has their dad shouting down the hallway—supersonic hearing strikes again—and Kate rolls her eyes for the third time this morning. She pushes outside and shuts the door neatly behind her, stomach going hot and tingly at the thought of what she and Seth did on this very porch last weekend.

For real, though. Scott needs to get a girlfriend—or a boyfriend, or even just a hobby outside of video games. Maybe if he had a love life of his own, he’d stop poking his nose into Kate’s.

 

* * *

 

Seth’s neighborhood isn’t that far from Kate’s, and it doesn’t take her long to get there even when the traffic hits a snarl, swelled up by all the folks heading home from church. The streets are narrower than the ones running through Kate’s neighborhood, the houses more eclectic, the trees older and taller. Kate decides that she likes it.

Seth lives in the left half of a duplex with a clean brown brick facade and a taupe shingled roof. Kate parks at the curb in front of Seth’s half of the duplex and spends too much time staring at his front door, which is painted a deep burgundy.

_Get yourself together, Fuller._

Resolving to do exactly that, Kate unbuckles her seatbelt and squirms out of her cardigan, tossing it onto the passenger seat beside her purse. She wiggles her phone out of her purse’s front pocket and sends a message to her dad letting him know she’s at Jessica’s before bringing up the group chat she shares with her friends.

_I’m at Seth’s._

Okay, so she’s procrastinating, but the message is also insurance, on the off chance that Seth turns out to be a serial killer or some other kind of creep. He didn’t give her any bad vibes when they first met, but you never know, and she doesn’t want to die horribly because she allowed her libido to eclipse her common sense.

Kate jumps a little when her phone buzzes three times in quick succession. Her friends’ replies are pouring in, one after the other.

From Libby: a string of hearts and eggplant emojis.

From Jessie: _Use protection._

From Jessica: _GET THAT DICK!!!!!!_

Kate deletes _those_ extremely incriminating messages in a hurry, then bites the bullet and sends Seth a text letting him know she’s here before putting away her phone, gathering up her purse, and climbing out of the car. She follows the short walkway that cuts through the small front yard at a clip, but the front door still swings open before she’s reached the porch.

Feeling every inch the smitten teenage girl she is, Kate tries not to let her anxiety show on her face, chest so tight it’s like she’s on the verge of an asthma attack (she doesn’t have asthma, but Libby does, so she has a secondhand idea of what one feels like). Kate and Seth have texted sporadically over the past week, and they exchanged selfies to go with their contact info, but Seth’s one of those people whose pictures really don’t do them any justice.

What’s worse is that he’s not wearing that stupid pizza shop uniform anymore. He’s not dressed up or anything—to the point that Kate’s starting to feel a little overdressed, herself—but blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt suit him really well.

Kate imagines that most things do.

“Hey,” says Seth, leaning down to kiss Kate on the cheek. “You look fantastic. C’mon in.”

“Thanks,” Kate says breathlessly, then ventures, “So do you.” Seth smiles when she says it, but it looks a little…strained?

 _Oh, no,_ Kate thinks, heart sinking. _What’d I do?_

Seth pulls the door shut, then says, “Can you hold on a sec?” Kate nods, eyes going wide when Seth clomps halfway up the short staircase and _bellows_ , “Richard! Get your ass in gear already!”

Seth comes back down the stairs, handsome face twisted up in a scowl—but not one that seems to be directed at _Kate_ , thank God. Kate says, a little tentatively, “Uh, who’s Richard?” Although, from the look on Seth’s face, she can guess. There are just some facial expressions that are universal to older siblings everywhere.

“My little brother,” Seth says, confirming Kate’s guess. “Sorry, he was supposed to be out of here by now. Dumbass overslept—I swear, Kate, the kid’s like a fucking vampire.”

Kate’s mouth blooms into a smile, relief hitting her in a tingling rush. So it’s not something _she_ did. “That’s alright. I don’t mind meeting him.”

“Trust me,” Seth says grimly, “you will.”

“Hey. I heard that.”

With some difficulty, Kate tears her eyes away from Seth’s face—his mouth is distractingly pretty even when he frowns—and looks at the person coming down the stairs. And she doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t _this_.

Handsome, she anticipated, since he’s related to Seth, but this Richard is by no means _little_. He’s tall and broad, pale complexion offset by his dark hair. Icy blue eyes peer at Kate through a thick pair of glasses, making her feel like she’s a specimen under a microscope.

“So you’re the pizza girl, huh?” Richard asks her.

“Uh,” Kate flounders, but she’s saved by Seth, who physically puts himself between her and his brother and snaps, “Jesus Christ, Richard, she has a name and I’ve told it to you ten fucking times.”

“Yeah, I know.” Richard leans around his brother and treats Kate to another onceover with those X-ray eyes of his. “Katie, right?”

“It’s Kate.” Has Seth been calling her Katie, or did Richard just not bother to make a distinction between the two? “Pleased to meet you, Richard.”

Seth audibly snorts, and Richard’s mouth curves into a smile that doesn’t quite fit his face. “It’s Richie. Seth’s the only one who calls me Richard, and only when he’s pissed at me. Which is all the time, actually.”

Okay, so Richard— _Richie_ —is an oversharer. Jot that down. Stepping out from behind Seth, Kate asks Richie, “So Seth’s been talking about me, huh?”

In her periphery, she sees Seth make a face, but Richie’s smile just gets wider, showing teeth. “Oh, yeah. He sulked the whole two days it took you to text him. It was pretty sad. Also annoying.”

“Alright,” Seth says loudly. He yanks a thin jacket off the coatrack mounted on the wall and shoves it at Richie, even though it’s as warm a day as one would expect it to be during springtime in Texas. “That’s enough getting-to-know-you shit. Richie here’s got places to be.”

“Not really,” says Richie, although he readily accepts the jacket, bunching the collar up in his fist. “I wanted to stay in and watch a movie, but Seth wanted me gone before I could kill his game.”

Seth left the door unlocked, and now he yanks it open and gestures Richie through it. “It’s already killed. You killed it. I’m giving it a funeral this Thursday. Get out.”

Richie doesn’t get out. He cocks his head, eyes never straying from Kate’s. Is it just her, or does he not blink all that much? “Y’know, I’m the one who was supposed to drop off the pizzas. The instructions asked for the best-looking guy we had, so—”

“You’re full of shit,” says Seth. “And I think you need to update your eyeglass prescription.”

“Seth didn’t even _want_ to do it, but he’s really insecure and he hates to lose, and he couldn’t stand the thought of me going instead of him—”

“Get out before I throw you out,” Seth barks, taking a step towards Richie like he’ll actually, _literally_ throw him out into the street if he has to. Kate, who’s been looking back and forth between the two of them like a spectator at a ping-pong match, flattens herself against the wall perpendicular to the door. Just in case.

“It was nice meeting you, Katie,” Richie says, sounding sincere in a deadpan sort of way, before striding out the front door under his own power.

“It was nice meeting you—”

Seth doesn’t exactly _slam_ the front door shut, but neither does he close it with any kind of care.

“—too,” Kate finishes lamely. She’s a little surprised that Seth didn’t shake his fist and shout, “And _stay_ out,” after Richie’s retreating figure.

And, okay, so. Turns out Seth’s actually kind of a grouch. So long as he doesn’t get grouchy with _her_ , though, Kate’s willing to give it a pass, just like she gave the winky face a pass.

It’s possible that she’s allowing her vagina to make her decisions for her. Probably not a good move.

Seth slumps against the door with a muffled groan, and Kate stifles a giggle. He squints across the entryway at her, and she smiles guilelessly back.

Then she tucks her hands between her back and the wall, crosses her legs at the ankles, and says, “Did you really not want to deliver the pizzas?”

Seth straightens up and folds his arms; the latter does interesting things to his biceps. “I mean, not really? You gotta admit, it was a pretty stupid request.” Seth blinks. “Shit. Uh. You’re not the one who put it in, are you? Because—”

Kate contemplates letting him dig himself a little deeper before relenting with a shrug. “Nah. My friend Jessica did. You remember her, right? She thought she was being nice.”

“Well, shit. Guess I owe Jessica a fruit basket.”

It warms Kate from her throat to her stomach, to hear Seth imply that _he_ was the one who lucked out last weekend. “Guess I do, too.”

The toothy grin that crawls across Seth’s face makes Kate blush even harder—but that’s nothing compared to how she feels when he uncrosses his arms and makes his slow way over to her. For a giddy, dizzy moment, Kate thinks he’s going to flatten her against the wall and kiss the living daylights out of her, and she’s at once relieved and disappointed when he doesn’t. No, all he does is prop himself against the wall beside her, close enough that their arms brush, close enough that Kate can smell his cologne. Or maybe it’s his shampoo? His hair looks a little damp, anyway. But maybe it’s not water. Could be gel.

These are stupid things to focus on. Kate realizes this.

But she’s been acting pretty stupid in general, lately. Going on a date with an older guy she knows almost nothing about while her dad and brother carry on in blissful ignorance—that deserves a freaking Nobel Prize for _stupid_. Not that Kate’s going to let that stop her, which just might be the stupidest thing of all.

“So, uh.” Kate drums her fingers against the wall. It’s wood paneled, or maybe just plywood panel. Kate can’t tell the difference. “Where’re we going, anyway?”

She’s already asked him that question over text message, and he replied cryptically that it was a surprise. Kate wonders if it was _actually_ a surprise, or if he was still trying to think of where to take her when she asked.

Seth’s breath flutters across her face—Kate’s not the only one who’s brushed her teeth recently—and then he’s sealing his mouth over hers, a damp slide of plush skin that doesn’t last half as long as their kiss on her front porch and is no less powerful for it. Seth severs the contact before Kate can do much more than curl her fingers in his t-shirt’s collar, laughing when she huffs at him. There’s a shimmering smear of pink on his lower lip.

Kate’s phone buzzes in her purse. It could be her dad. Could be her friends. She’ll look at it later.

Seth tucks a loose lock of hair behind Kate’s ear, fingers grazing the bolt of her jaw. “Before I answer your question, princess, let me ask _you_ something.”

Kate tilts her head in silent question, breath a little uneven still. But then, so is Seth’s.

Maybe he’s just as affected by her as she is by him. She’d like to think so.

Seth tugs lightly on her hair. “How d’you feel about cotton candy?”

Kate smiles so hard her face hurts, feeling giddy with infatuation. “I don’t hate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lipstick with the embarrassing name is real. It's called Orgasm, and it's very pretty, but shit gets awkward when people ask you what color you're wearing. 
> 
> I'm working on a project for an upcoming event in my other fandom, so updates might be a little sparse for the month of July. I promise to keep chipping away at my WIPs when I can, though, and I won't be abandoning anything! Like, ever. Thank you for your patience ❤️


End file.
